


Snowflakes

by ThatOneWriter15



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, POV Third Person, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 07:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17545421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneWriter15/pseuds/ThatOneWriter15
Summary: Castiel surprises her in more ways than one.





	Snowflakes

She awakes to someone’s grasp on her arm and has her pistol drawn, cocked, and aimed in two seconds flat.

He raises his hands in surrender, even though the gun can’t hurt him.

He comes into view as the haze of sleep clears from her vision.

Her voice, however, is still groggy. “Cass?” She uncocks the gun and slides it back in its hiding place under her pillow.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he replies, sheepishly.

“What are you doing here?”

Fortunately for her, Cass, and the Winchesters, the world isn’t ending this week. Just a few days ago, she, Sam, and Dean eradicated over a dozen vampires. Seemed like cause for celebration. And by “celebration” they meant “a few days to actually sleep.” The showdown happened in a tiny town called Ash Creek. It wasn’t far from Bobby’s place--less than half an hour’s drive with Dean behind the wheel--so she and the brothers decided to bunk at Singer Salvage Yard for the week to wait out the oncoming snow storm.

But Cass? They haven’t heard from Cass in a couple of weeks.

“Is everything okay?” She follows up her previous question, certain something must be up for him to appear out of the blue when they weren’t on a case.

His thought process scans across his face. “Nothing’s wrong,” he finally responds.

She sighs. As she sits up, she tosses back the old quilt that was shielding her from the draft in the room. Flinging her legs over the side of the bed, she downs a sip from the cup of water resting on a stack of lore books on the nightstand. “So, then, what are you doing scaring the hell outta me at 2 A.M.?”

It’s a joke, but he immediately looks worried. She scrambles to ward off his oncoming wave of guilt. “No! No, I… I was kidding.” She raises her hand to place it on his forearm. 

His oceanic eyes bloom in the darkness in what Bobby claims to be the “guest room.”

“Oh,” he replies, the right corner of his mouth tugging upwards just a little.

Her smile for him is bigger. She sees him relax a bit.

“The snow started…” His focus literally goes over her head to the small window across the room, but he notes the dusty, old shade is drawn. “And I know you’re fond of it, so I--”

“You do?” she interrupts him. It’s her turn to be the puzzled one. She can’t remember discussing her love of winter weather with Cass.

“Yes. You and Sam discussed it yesterday. You said you enjoy being outside when it’s snowing, and he vehemently disagreed with your opinion.”

“Wh-- Were you _here_ when we were talking about it?” She’s still at a loss.

“No. Not physically. But I _am_ a celestial being.”

“Right,” she murmurs, not having considered the fact that he listened in on conversations when he was not around. Could he also read thoughts from a distance…?

He sits beside her on the bed, both of them now facing the room’s doorway. “I realized that I’ve never truly taken notice of the snow. I’ve been on Earth for three years, two months, and six days now, and it’s one of many phenomena I haven’t yet explored.”

She feels lighter somehow as she begins to understand where he is going.

“So…?” she urges him on.

“So…” He turns to her, his trench coat brushing against her thigh. “Would you like to go on a walk with me?” 

***

Having promised to meet Cass at Bobby’s back door in five minutes, she speedily prepares for the elements. An oversized gray sweater cascades down to her jeans. Two pairs of socks make putting her feet into her boots more difficult. She hesitates while reaching for her peacoat. She only uses it for “official” FBI duty, as to keep it in pristine condition. Still, it is warmer than Option Two--the bomber jacket that has one too many monster bloodstains on it. Peacoat wins. She twists her plaid scarf around her neck and pulls her wool hat low enough to cover her ears. Good to go.

She tiptoes through the living room. Sam’s claiming the couch, one leg hanging over the side. On the floor, Dean’s using his jacket as a blanket. The sacrifices they both made so that she could have the only spare bed... (And they wouldn’t take her “no” for an answer.)

Finally at the door, she can hear the wind howling through the old wood. Suddenly, Cass materializes out of thin air, and she gives a small, startled yelp.

“Sorry,” Cass whispers.

" _I’m_ sorry,” she counters. She’s used to him appearing from nowhere, but something about it being so quiet in the house has her jumpier than normal, apparently.

“Ready?”

She nods. She’s reaching for the doorknob when he gently places his hand on her shoulder, and her body threatens to quake before she’s even out in the cold.

***

She opens her eyes to discover a place she doesn’t recognize. It’s a street lined with small homes. Even with little observation, she sees a pattern in their architecture. “Welcome” mats rest on stoops. Wind chimes tinkle on porches. There’s something very inviting about the area even though she’s a stranger to it. She takes in the beautiful blanket of shimmering ice crystals that has settled over… well, everything. It’s so calming.

She lets out a long breath, only able to catch the smallest hint of the cloud that forms in the black, frigid night. When she speaks, she’s surprised to hear the emotion in her voice. “Cass, where are we?”

If he notices her wavering delivery, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “A neighborhood approximately two miles from Bobby’s house.”

She looks to him, another question caught in her throat.

“I, uh, I did my research,” he winks.

She chuckles.

“Do you like it?” He seems concerned.

“Cass, it’s perfect,” she confirms.

“Good.” He lets the word hang in the winter air for a few moments. “Shall we walk around the block?” He offers her his elbow. She wraps her hands around his arm, too aware of the muscles flexing beneath his sleeve. 

***

Their feet crunch along the sidewalks. She tells him about happy memories from her childhood involving snow: the thrill of being dismissed from school early, snowball fights, sledding down a particularly steep hill. He listens intently to every word.

“It all sounds wonderful,” he comments once she stops talking.

“It was,” she agrees. “But tonight…” She halts her feet and lets go of him. “All of this…” She takes a few strides forward, gesturing to the winter wonderland around her. “This is better.”

“Really?” His tone is hopeful.

She spins 180° so he can read her face. “Really.”

He steps toward her when his left shoe hits a patch of ice. He slips, his arms flying outward, hoping to find something to break his fall. She somehow makes it in time. He’s still upright enough that she manages to encircle his waist. His coat bunches up slightly around her grip, but she’s able to steady him.

“ _That_ is the only downfall of winter,” she informs him, pointing to the frozen ground, a secure arm still around him.

“Thank you,” he exhales.

“Anytime,” she smiles. 

***

They near a street ending in a cul de sac. At the edge of an adjacent yard, a faulty street light flickers. Wanting Cass to get a proper glimpse of the snowflakes as they tumble from the melancholy-colored clouds, she knows where to head to next.

Locking up the nervousness standing in the way of something she’s wanted to do for as long as she can remember, she reaches for Cass’s hand. Fingers intertwined, he peers down at their grasp as if to make sure it’s real. Rose-petal lips slightly parted, he finds her soft gaze in the dark night.

“This way,” she directs him.

Leading him down the dead-end street, her mind swirls. The heat from his soft skin radiates into her own. The stark difference in temperature alerts her to how chilly she is. A shiver races up her spine.

“You’re cold,” he observes as they reach her destination.

“Only a little,” she lies. He squeezes her hand before releasing it, and she regrets his decision immediately.

She crosses her arms across her chest, hoping to shield herself from the bite of the wind when she realizes what he’s doing.

“Here.” He shrugs out of his trench coat and gives it a shake to straighten it out.

“What about you?” A suit jacket will do nothing for him at 20°F.

“I don’t get cold,” he assures her as he drapes her in beige and warmth. He even takes the time to adjust the collar. One of his thumbs grazes her neck, and she inhales. He catches the shallow breath, and they lock eyes. Like some kind of magic, the streetlight above comes on at full blast, and the angel that is standing closer to her than ever before is illuminated in crisp white. The snowflakes tangle in his midnight hair and settle on his animated eyelashes. He smells of early-morning dew drops and something else she can’t put her finger on.

The electricity from the lamp seems to pulse between them. She can feel herself leaning into him, and, by some miracle, he’s moving toward her as well. She’s aware of what can only be described as the flutter of wings in her stomach as the distance between their chapping lips disappears.


End file.
